- I accept my paradoxical desire. Miles of freeway
- diminish in rear view. I was sad
- but before me are mountains clouded by morning and by forest,
- whose shoulders roll from my way like tired lovers out of beds.
- Damned identity: I, like you!
- Would I believe in you; would I be leaving you?
- If I am yours, I am yours as I am,
- curious, as these clouds disperse, to cross these rivers,
- to coast into these country towns,
- these valleys of fruit trees.
- There is a bridge, there a motel,
- and there a farm with horses on a hill.